Narrow and gloomy.
This was Melvin's first impression of Knockturn Alley.
The road was nearly half as narrow as Diagon Alley, with crooked shops crammed on both sides of the road. The eaves were extremely low, and the sunlight could not penetrate. The moment he stepped into the alley, his vision became dim, and a faint chill enveloped his whole body.
The corners of the wall were covered with sticky black mud, and mold spread freely.
He felt a sticky touch under his feet, and before Melvin could look down, a sharp and piercing voice suddenly rang in his ears.
"Are you lost, dear?"
An old witch came out from nowhere and stood in front of him.
Melvin smelled the fishy smell of rotten fish intestines. He looked down and saw that it was coming from the wicker basket she was carrying. The basket was covered with a layer of linen, so he couldn't see what was inside. He only saw dark red liquid seeping out from the cracks in the wicker, dripping onto the stone slabs.
Unaware of the witch's motives, and unconcerned about her business, Melvin tossed a few silver Sickles into the basket. "Take me to Borgin and Burke's. If I arrive safely, the balance will be the same."
"At your service," the witch forced a brilliant smile, revealing mossy teeth. "This way. I'll lead the way. Those gutter rats won't bother you."
Melvin, well-versed in the principle of following the host's wishes, offered no objection.
Following the witch into an even narrower alley, he felt a sticky sensation underfoot again. He looked down and saw moss growing in the cracks of the stones, along with a half-dried, dark slime that resembled some animal's blood.
The further he went, the darker the view.
Occasionally, a pedestrian in a long robe hurried by, their hood pulled low, revealing only a sliver of chin or scales.
As a commercial street, Knockturn Alley was lined with shops operating on both sides. Signs were largely absent, with only a few items displayed in the windows: neatly arranged shrunken human heads, giant acromantids in black iron cages, troll skins stretched in wooden frames, brass bells with fingerbone clappers...
Some shops even had staff soliciting customers.
A wizard of uncertain age huddled in a doorway, his gaze grim and serene, while whispers emanated from within.
Seeing him frown slightly, the old witch lowered her voice and explained, "Don't be frightened by them! Those aren't Muggle or wizard heads or finger bones, but house-elf ones."
Melvin glanced away. "How far?"
"Just past that candle shop."
The candle shop quickly came into view, its old wooden sign in front, preserved by the wax from the dead flies. The words were faintly discernible: 12 Knockturn Alley.
Further ahead was Borgin and Burke's, the only shop in Knockturn Alley with a legible sign.
The old witch received the final payment of seven silver Sickles. She smiled brightly, the moss on her teeth a tender green. "Would you like me to guide you on your return trip, sir? Just a few copper knuts would be sufficient."
"No thanks."
"Happy shopping."
Melvin watched the figure carrying the wicker basket disappear into the distance. He glanced up at the shop sign. The black lacquer was pitted and dented, and the brass name, stained with green rust, drooped slightly, the last letter swaying as if it might fall and strike passersby.
The window glass was covered in grime like crusted eye mucus, with only a small, transparent area in the middle where someone had smeared it with their palm. Unfortunately, the glass was aged, making it difficult to see the merchandise inside.
Pushing open the shop door, the rusty brass bell rang crisply.
A bone ornament hung from the doorframe. The bones were thin and hollow, probably the pubic bones of some bird, and they made a hollow clattering sound against the door. Several kerosene lamps hung from the ceiling, their shades clogged with insect carcasses. The room was filled with a faint smell of mold and rot.
A hunched man appeared behind the counter, running a hand through his sleek hair. He squinted as he looked Melvin up and down. Noticing a new face, he perked up immediately. His gaze flicked to the ring on his left hand, lingering for a moment before a fawning smile appeared.
"Welcome, sir from afar. What shall I call you?" His tone was even greasier than his hair.
"William,"
Melvin said without batting an eyelid. This was the name of a Pukki in Ilvermorny.
"Dear Mr. William, it's a pleasure to meet you. What can I do for you?"
"I need something I can't buy anywhere else,"
Melvin said indifferently. He didn't approach the counter, but casually walked the aisles between the shelves, examining the merchandise.
"Boggin and Burke's is a wise choice for you." Mr. Borgin took the initiative and walked over to the counter, introducing him in a slick tone. "This one in front of you is called the Hand of Glory. Hold a candle in it, and only the person holding it can see the light. It's a good friend of thieves and robbers."
It was a withered hand, including the forearm and palm, the flesh pale and shrunken. The arm was made into the base and handle, and the palm was the candlestick, with the five fingers slightly closed.
Melvin pretended to be disgusted. "It sounds like a despicable thing for thieves and robbers."
"Occasionally, it can be used unexpectedly."
"Then wrap it up for me."
"What?" Mr. Borgin was stunned.
"I said wrap it up for me. I want this Hand of Glory."
"But you haven't asked its price yet..."
"Since this is our first meeting, consider it my sincerity. I believe Mr. Borgin will give the same sincerity." Melvin turned his head and looked him in the eyes. "Isn't that right?"
"My pleasure, sir."
Mr. Borgin looked into those dark, deep eyes and was about to make a big offer when he suddenly found himself stuck. He hesitated for a few seconds before saying in a muffled voice: "Forty-three Galleons. That's the price I took over from the Bulstrode family ten years ago."
"Fifty, Mr. Borgin. This isn't just a one-time deal," Melvin said softly.
"I commend your generosity." Mr. Borgin's tone was much more sincere.
"Now let's continue and see what other interesting things we have in the store."
The slick voice echoed again in the dim shop, occasionally interspersed with a few brief comments.
"This is a hanging noose. Three hundred years ago, a wizard transformed 'Quick Imprisonment' into a dark magic. The thick rope shot from the wand no longer binds or imprisons the enemy, but suspends them..."
"Very good dark magic. While suspended, the enemy can't cast spells, and being unable to cast spells also means being unable to break free."
"Yes, this noose is made from the skins of seven wizards and the hair of six witches who were hanged. It was soaked and tanned in mermaid blood on a full moon night. The magical power of resentment and curse fermented from this, and can quietly wrap around a sleeping wizard's neck at night, causing him to sleep forever."
"Any wizard with normal intelligence, even a Muggle, should be able to break free before being strangled."
"Look at this, an opal necklace. The ancient and vicious curse has claimed the lives of 19 Muggles."
"The curse on it is almost dissipated." "
The suffocating puppet, with rubies embedded in its eye sockets. Whenever someone lets down their guard in front of it, its fingers twitch and point at the back of the customer's neck..."
"And then the angry person smashes it with his fist?"
"The vanishing cabinet, a cabinet that can disappear and reappear objects, and can be used to hide or transport magical items."
"Where is the other half?"
"..."
After picking and choosing, Melvin didn't buy anything else, but Mr. Borgin just smiled bitterly, unable to refute.
Knockturn Alley has developed to this day, and the Ministry of Magic has more or less tacitly allowed it. It's not that they can't control it, but they don't want to strictly control it.
As long as the rats in the gutter don't run out and provoke in broad daylight, the house cats won't chase them into the sewers. As long as these dark wizards don't go out to murder wizards and Muggles, the Aurors won't pester them to the end.
Borgin and Burke are hiding deep in Knockturn Alley, and they have to consider the face of the Ministry of Magic, and dare not openly sell overly dangerous dark magic items. The remaining things only sound powerful, and using them to curse and murder wizards will only make a joke.
After introducing the last item, Mr. Borgin's slick voice gradually became raspy, and he offered a dry excuse: "The goods in our shop are all rare and ancient magical artifacts passed down from outstanding wizarding families."
"But I need something a little more novel."
Mr. Borgin paused, then asked tentatively: "What do you mean?"
"An artifact that combines magic and Muggle technology."
Melvin's voice was soft, but it was clear to Mr. Borgin. He instinctively wanted to retort, but he met those dark eyes again.
"Mr. William, I have no deception or concealment from you."
Mr. Borgin's face was filled with hesitation and struggle. "Muggles do make many interesting gadgets. Some wizards enjoy these things and are keen to modify them. Knockturn Alley used to sell them, like glass candles with metal wicks that could be lit with magic. There were also bicycles and alarm clocks..."
Melvin was intrigued.
"But after Umbridge took over the Improper Use of Magic Office, she tightened the censorship on these things. She sees this as a promotional achievement, and she's eager to send any wizard who touches Muggle items to Azkaban. Now no one dares to do this business."
Melvin frowned slightly, but pressed on, "Is there nothing you can do?"
Mr. Borgin shook his head, wanting to speak but stopping.
He lowered his head and pondered for a few seconds, his previously accumulated sincerity and goodwill taking effect. He hesitated and said, "It's just that no one is doing business. Some wizards simply have a hobby and work on this privately, only communicating with like-minded people..."
"Do you have any photography stuff?" "
I can't give you exact information right now," Mr. Borgin shook his head. "I only know they're working with Muggle objects. What they're researching and what they've created is something only they know... If you need anything in this area, I can introduce you to someone."
Melvin had just arrived in London and didn't know any other brokers here, so he agreed.
They exchanged contact information, a one-way, anonymous one.
Melvin was in a good mood after leaving Borgin and Burke's. Although he didn't buy the things he'd been looking for, his shopping trip wasn't entirely fruitless. Even if he ultimately returned empty-handed, at least he knew a group of wizards were beginning to explore Muggle technology.
This was good news for the Muggle Studies professor, who hadn't yet started.
As dusk fell, the sky darkened.
Melvin, clutching the beautifully packaged wooden box, walked back along the narrow streets of Knockturn Alley.
Night fell a little faster than expected. Some shops along the street had already closed, while others had hung copper lamps with burning candles inside. The pale light failed to illuminate the street, making it seem even more eerie.
Knockturn Alley wasn't bustling at night. Dark wizards were human, too, and didn't tend to be nocturnal.
Passing a shop selling Acromantulas, Melvin slowed down. He remembered that this shop used to have a shop selling troll skins next to it. Now, it had become an alley, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side, surrounded by brick walls.
After a moment's deliberation, Melvin walked in. At least he was heading in the right direction.
The alley grew increasingly quiet.
Turning the corner, Melvin paused.
Two cloaked figures stood in front of him, their boots grinding against rat skulls in the cracks of the stone slabs.
He heard a noise behind him, and turning back, he saw two figures appearing from behind. Brick walls
surrounded them, and it was unclear where they had emerged.
"…" Melvin was actually relieved. Knockturn Alley was famous for being a gathering place for Dark wizards, but during the day, it looked just like that. Aside from the intimidating goods, it didn't seem particularly impressive. Mr. Borgin was a law-abiding businessman.
He had assumed that the Dark wizards had achieved a delicate balance of intimidation, creating a harmonious street.
Unexpectedly, the main business wasn't conducted in the shop, but deep in the alleyway.
Knockturn Alley had no streetlights, and with no shops either side, the area was illuminated only by the faint sunlight. Melvin observed the four Dark wizards.
They all seemed seasoned veterans, wearing moleskin masks and concealed by linen cloaks. Each of them exuded the scent of dragon's claw powder, which helped to prevent Aurors from tracking them by scent.
As Melvin observed the four, they also observed him.
"I heard there's a new customer in Knockturn Alley?"
A hoarse voice sounded from under the moleskin mask: "Knockturn Alley doesn't only have old Borgin's shop, other products are also worth buying."
"Are you really here to do business?"
"Cash on delivery."
"What are you selling?"
"A map of Knockturn Alley."
"I thought you built this road and you want to charge me a toll."
"12 Galleons each."
"It's a bit expensive, but not unacceptable."
"Minimum order of 12."
"Bundling is not a long-term business model."
Melvin persuaded patiently. He was about to start working as a professor, so it was always good to be patient: "How about this, I'll buy a copy of your map for 10 Sickles, as a discount for new customers, and you can also give me maps of other wizarding villages in Britain, try to mark them in more detail."
"We only sell maps of Knockturn Alley, and we never bargain."
"Then aren't you robbers..."
Melvin found that his patience was thinner than he thought, and it was quickly exhausted. He tilted his head slightly to look around the alley, then looked up.
The corridor was narrow and long, making it difficult to navigate with enemies from both sides.
The four unruly businessmen in front and behind also sensed the breakdown in negotiations and tightened their wands, the atmosphere growing tense.
Melvin felt a little disappointed that they didn't even have dueling etiquette. He reached out to open the wooden box, remembering Mr. Borgin's description of it:
"Occasionally, it can have unexpected effects."
(End of this chapter)